


Hummingbird Heartbeat

by WriterOfFictions



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, M/M, here goes!, its been a super long time since ive posted anything
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-07 23:11:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11633898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterOfFictions/pseuds/WriterOfFictions
Summary: Actor Harry Styles had been on BBC Radio one to promote his latest film. His pal Nick Grimshaw played a new game he created- The Heart Rate Monitor Challenge. All was fine and dandy, until Nick showed a picture of one Louis Tomlinson.





	1. Chapter 1

Two Weeks Ago

 

“So he’s popping them on right now,” Nick narrates for the benefit of radio. He says it so casually, as if Harry were trying on a pair of shoes, not as if some trained professional were hooking Harry up to an actual Heart Monitor. 

Nick slips on a white coat, because of course he does, and asks all dramatic like, “Is he alive Doctor Oscar?”

The doctor, Oscar it would seem, tells Nick to hang on a moment. Presumably to wait for the machine to read Harry’s heartbeat. Harry presses down on the sticky pad on his pec to make sure it’s secure and jokes as if he were Doctor Oscar, “There-there’s nothing.”

The people in the studio give a laugh, and after Doctor Oscar confirms that, yes, Harry is in fact alive with a steady heartbeat, Nick proceeds with the torture he has cleverly designed as a “game.”

Nick picks up a small stack of paper and Harry reminds himself to be cool, and also to get better friends. Nick addresses him with a devilish grin, “So I’m going to show you a series of images, and we’re going to see how you react to them. Easy enough, yeah?”

Harry scoffs, “All right.”

The first image Nick shows is of his mum, Anne. “Tell us about you lovely mum,” Nick encourages.

So, Harry does. Easy enough.

“Heart rate’s a steady sixty four,” Nick notes.

Nick reveals a second picture, a jar of Branston Pickle. Harry snorts. Nick asks, “How does this make you feel?”

Harry laughs, “Everything tastes better with a little Branston Pickle.”

“A little,” Nick repeats, “don’t lie to the people, Harry. I’ve seen you ruin a perfectly good sandwich with that stuff.”

Harry guffaws, “Ruin?!”

“His heart rate is rising. We’re at seventy.”

“So I like to slather it on,” Harry concedes, “it does not ruin a sandwich, thank you. Next please.”

Nick obliges, the next two images being a motorcycle and an avocado, respectively. Harry gets through those images easily, heart rate keeping a nice, steady pace. He’s just starting to feel comfortable when he realizes it was almost too easy.

“Ready for the next one?” Nick smirks, and Harry knows he’s done for. Whatever it is.

Sure enough, Nick turns the paper over to reveal a picture of recent Brit Award winner, Louis Tomlinson. Harry licks his lips. It’s a still from his latest music video, where he’s gripping and pulling at his sweatshirt, allowing his tummy to show while he sings his heart out. Harry may have watched the video once, or twice, or thirty seven times, but no one else needs to know that.

“Louis Tomlinson,” Nick announces, and Harry realizes he’s been quiet for a bit too long. Fucking Nick, who consistently gets off on publicly embarrassing him. What’s worse is Harry keeps agreeing to allow him to do it. He can feel his heartbeat quickening and knows he needs to say something before Nick does.

“Handsome man,” Harry admits nonchalantly. “Good singer. Dig his new tune.”

Nick eyes the machine behind him, “Yeah? How many times have you watched the video?”

Harry sputters, completely caught out. Dammit. He hates the way his voice is suddenly much higher in pitch when he finally manages words, “A couple of times.”

“Heart rate’s rising,” Nick announces much too gleefully. “You sure it was only a couple of times?”

Harry knows his face is flushed, he can feel his cheeks burning as he fibs, “Yeah.”

Nick checks the machine again, “Heart rate is rocketing, we’re at an all time high of ninety one. How many times was it Styles, more than a dozen? More than twenty?”

Harry laughs because Nick is such a shit. He knows he’s lost and there’s only one way to bow out gracefully. “I was just trying to help him break the record for most views in one day for a music video-”

Nick interjects, “He’s at ninety nine! Highest it’s ever been. Will he break one hundred?”

Harry plows onward, laughing as he goes, “-Which I think I speak for everyone when I say, weren’t we all?”

“One hundred and four!”

Harry drops his head into his hands and laughs for a moment. When he sits back up, he says to Nick through a fit of giggles, “I hate you.” He then sees his manager and both his stylists laughing at him from behind the glass window in the studio, and proceeds to wave his hand in their direction and adds, “all of you.”

Nick feigns shock, “Why?”

Harry rubs at his face. What he wants to respond with is that all four of them know why. That they all know perfectly well in two weeks Harry will be sat on a couch next to Louis, as he is also conveniently scheduled to be on the same episode of The Late Late Show with James Corden, and there’s no way in Hell James isn’t going to bring this up, in front of Louis and a live audience, so Thanks Mates.

What Harry says instead with the voice of a man defeated, is, “You’re all the worst.”


	2. The Meet Cute on The Late Late Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fast forward two weeks, Harry goes to America to promote film on The Late Late Show with pal James Corden. Louis is also a guest. They banter, they flirt.

Harry’s standing behind the curtain waiting for his cue, when he spots Louis being led off to the side and out of immediate view from said curtain. He looks incredible, as usual. Sporting an over-sized peach colored jumper, with pastel blue and green stripes on the arms, paired with acid washed jeans, looking like a model straight out of the nineties. Harry shifts his weight and straightens out his navy blue velvet jacket for something to do with his hands.

“You loved him Dunkirk, you really loved him in Sudden Surrender, and trust me when I say you’ll love him even more in his new film Magnificent Stars, which is in theaters everywhere tomorrow, please welcome Mr. Harry Styles!”

Well, that’s his cue. Harry runs his hand through his hair as a crew member pulls the curtain open for him. The cheers increase when he begins his walk down the aisle. He happily high fives audience members on his way to the stage where James is awaiting him. Arms open wide.

“Harry!” James exclaims, “so good to see you man.”

Harry walks into the embrace, giving James a quick squeeze, “Always a pleasure.”

James then ushers Harry over toward the couch, and he takes a seat while James introduces Louis.

“His album went straight to number one in eighty five countries, his song “Back To You” is officially certified platinum and he just announced a world tour. It’s the one and only, Mr. Louis Tomlinson!”

Harry watches the curtain open to reveal a bright and smiling Louis. He notes how Louis walks down the steps and through the aisle with ease, giving the audience high fives, and one girl a quick hug. Clearly a natural. Harry rises from the couch as Louis approaches the stage.

Louis and James hug, with Louis giving him a few pats on the back before letting go. “Nice to see you mate.”

“Appreciate you being here,” James replies earnestly, and then quickly turns his attention to Harry. “Louis, this is Harry. And Harry, well he already knows who you are, Louis.”

Harry’s face goes hot and he laughs because he knew this was coming. He politely extends a hand anyways and Louis takes it, eyes crinkling.

“So I’ve heard,” Louis says, voice full of amusement. He lets go and the two of them take their seat on the couch.

Harry cards his fingers through his hair, “Beautiful day we’re having.”

This earns a laugh from the audience, but most importantly from Louis, and Harry thinks it’s going to be just fine.

James grabs his note cards, sits down and positions his chair adjacent to the couch, “Thank you so much for being here, the both of you.”

Both Harry and Louis offer their thanks in return. James then talks to each of them about their recent projects and it's comfortable. Louis seems genuinely interested in the little anecdote Harry gives from his time on set, and mentions he’s impressed after they show a brief clip from the film, and alternatively when Louis describes a prank he and fellow collab artist Steve Aoki successfully accomplished involving a Slip ‘N Slide and some water balloons, Harry actually cackles. It’s good. It’s fun. And then, right on cue James mentions Harry’s recent interview on BBC’s The Breakfast Show.

“And you’ve clearly been busy, Harry, spending some time on BBC Radio One.” James turns his attention to Louis, “did you see the interview?”

Harry also turns his attention to Louis, aiming for casual, but is sure he misses the mark.

Louis, bless him, touches his fringe and goes all coy, “I’d heard about it, yeah.”

James enquires further, playful, “But did you see it?”

Harry laughs and plays along, dramatically crossing one leg over the other and folding his hands over his knee. He blinks and looks expectantly at Louis, though his heart is pounding, “Yeah, did you see it?”

Louis meets Harry’s eyes, and Harry’s pretty sure they’re actually twinkling. It’s unreal. Louis nods, and bites down on a smile, “I did, yeah.”

Coincidentally both Harry and James ask at the same time, with similar inflection, “And?”

The audience erupts in laughter, and Harry and James glance at each other for a moment, Harry’s eyes going comically wide and he purposefully drops his jaw open to create an exaggerated look of surprise. James cleverly mirrors him. They laugh and turn back to face Louis.

Louis appears to try to change the subject, “That was impressive. Did you two practice before the show?” He waves his finger between Harry and James.

However, James clearly isn’t letting him off that easy, “Nice try, but I think I speak for everyone when I say we’re’re all,” he emphasizes with a wave of his own around the room, “waiting on what you thought of Harry’s interview.”

Louis laughs and brings a hand to cover his mouth. “Okay, okay.” Once he settles himself, he clears his throat and says, “I thought it was sweet that Harold here helped me music video break the record.” He turns to Harry and places a hand atop Harry’s which are still laced on his knee, “So, thank you for that.”

Harry briefly wonders if he’s dreaming. “Any time.”

Louis removes his hand, (Harry tries not to mourn the loss of contact) and continues, “But also, what an idea for a game.” He directs his next words to Harry, “What was it like being hooked up to that machine?”

Before Harry can respond though, James interrupts and says, “Glad you asked, because after the commercial break we’re going to hook Louis here up to a Heart Rate Monitor.”

The audience cheers.

Louis inhales sharply, and Harry holds in the giggles trying desperately to escape.

James continues ignoring both guests, as well as the audience, and looks into the camera instead, “Just kidding. But we will be playing a game. Stick around we’ll be right back.”


	3. Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James, Harry, and Louis play Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts with a surprise mystery guest. A single text changes the game entirely.

“Welcome back! As you can see we’re sat here around a table-”

Harry tries to ignore the potent stench emanating from said table and notes there are four chairs and only three of them. He lifts a finger to point this out. “Erm, who’s the fourth chair for?”

James feigns annoyance, “I’m getting there Harold.”

Harry retrieves his finger animatedly, using his other hand and places both hands in his lap. God the smell of the fish smoothie directly in front of him is repulsive.

“As I was saying,” James continues, “You can see we’re sat here around a table. We’ve got room for one more, so I thought we’d call in a surprise guest to join us!”

The audience applauds and “oohs.”

Harry honestly has no idea who it could be. He turns to Louis who is sat beside him and Louis shrugs. At least they’re on the same page. Then James cracks a wicked grin, “I suppose we shouldn’t keep our mystery guest waiting. It turns out this friend of mine is also a mutual friend to both Harry and Louis. Let’s bring him out, it’s Mr. Niall Horan!”

Niall’s familiar face appears from behind the curtain and he makes his way down to the table. He’s bouncy and cheery, and Harry wonders if he knows what he’s signed up for.

James pulls out the chair for Niall, and when Niall gets a good look at the dishes prepared around the table before him, his skin goes even paler than usual. Harry thinks that answers his question.

“So, for this round of Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts, we’re going to be on teams. Here’s how it’s going to work. Niall and I will be asking questions to Harry and Louis and vice versa. The trick here, is if your teammate chooses not to answer a question, you both have to indulge in whatever disgusting food was chosen for you. Got it?”

Harry thinks he hears Louis mumble under his breath, “Oh god.”

James carries on, “Let’s have a look at what we’ve got here, shall we?” Seemingly unaffected by the thought of having to put any of whatever is on this God awful spread in his mouth. Harry hates him.

James happily gives the table a spin, naming all the items, providing a dramatic pause after each, allowing the audience to react accordingly. “We’ve got Beef Tongue, Bird Saliva, Scorpion, Hot Sauce, Bull Penis, Fish Smoothie, Chicken Feet, and everyone’s favorite- Clam Juice.”

The smell wafting up to Harry’s nostrils is just short of unbearable. He brings his fist to his mouth and just holds it there, blinking his eyes as each new dish takes its turn before him. Louis actually plugs his nose. Niall though, Niall definitely looks like he regrets agreeing to come on the show.

“Y’know what?” Niall starts, one arm across his chest, the other covering his nose and mouth, “It’s funnier on TV, but once you’re sat here it’s not quite so funny.”

They all share a slightly nervy laugh, and James gives Niall’s shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. The moment of comfort is over when James says, “Okay, Harry, you can ask me first.”

Harry looks to Louis and invites him to help with picking a poison, “What should we choose for this fine gentleman?”

Louis’ eyes light up and he begins to spin the table, “I say the Clam Juice since he’s so fond of it.”

Harry offers Louis a high five, to which Louis readily reciprocates. Harry’s starting to feel a little more comfortable with the situation at hand and remarks, “It’s everyone’s favorite.” He then clears his throat and has a quick read of the question before he asks it aloud. He giggles and has to bite down on his pointer finger, because good Lord these questions cut deep. James wipes his hands on the tops of his thighs awaiting his fate most likely.

Harry clears his throat again after he’s settled himself and says, “James, name one artist you’ve turned down for Carpool Karaoke.”

Louis is the first to respond, clapping his hands over his mouth to muffle his laughter. “Oh that’s a good one.”

James is sitting very still and Harry wonders if he’s going to name someone. It would be bad for business, sure, but also, that clam juice looks like actual snot. James fish mouths for a moment and Harry thinks he might go for it, might spill his guts, but then he shakes his head. “I can’t.”

Niall firmly disagrees, “You can.”

Harry sees Niall’s eyes go wide when James begins to reach for the tall glass full of Clam Juice.

“C’mon,” James instructs, motioning Niall to also pick up a glass, “Bottom’s up.”

Harry almost feels bad at the way Niall’s face goes green.

Next up it’s James’s turn and it’s clear he’s out for revenge. “How about some Beef Tongue?” He spins the table round, landing the two very long, very meaty, and very erect tongues in front of Louis.

“Louis,” he begins.

Louis maintains a steady gaze at James and Harry finds his determination impressive. “Go on.”

So James does, “You’ve had two incredibly successful collaborations, one with Steve Aoki, and one with Bebe Rexha,” he pauses and then, “Which of the two would you not want to work with again?”

Harry loudly exhales and mentally prepares to bite the Beef Tongue, but to his surprise Louis starts to ramble beside him.

“Oh God. Uhhh. Ehm. I loved working with both Steve and Bebe. They were great- but. If I had to choose someone I wouldn’t work with again, I think, oh, I don’t know-”

He looks over at Harry, eyes desperate, and Harry stops him from finishing the thought aloud “-you uhh probably shouldn’t answer that.” He places a hand on Louis’ shoulder and chuckles.

Louis looks at him unconvinced, “If I don’t we’ve got to eat this,” and waves his hand vaguely at the still erect tongues.

Harry follows the movement and glances at them, and then back at Louis. He shrugs. “Don’t mind taking one for the team if you don’t.”

Louis heaves a heavy sigh and selects one of the tongues. Harry immediately regrets his previous statement as he grabs the other. He and his stupid, stupid, treacherous mouth, all because of a pretty boy.

“Cheers!” Louis enthuses, tapping his beef tongue to Harry’s.

Harry gives a weak smile and swallows hard before lifting the tongue to his lips. He sneaks a peek over at Louis when he hears the sounds of gagging from the audience. Louis already has his mouth around it to take a bite, so Harry quickly shoves his in his own mouth before he loses the nerve and bites down. It’s, not horrible he decides. Like beef, but, a little different. The texture is super chewy and that’s the part that weirds him out the most. He quickly returns the now bitten tongue to the platter and swallows. “Who’s next?”

Louis is just getting done spitting into the bucket, when James laughs and points at him. “Louis, you’re up.”

“Cheers,” he replies, this time a bit more disgruntled. He turns and addresses Harry after picking up a card, “What shall we go with for our Irish friend here, Harry?”

Harry has a quick look around and suggests the Fish Smoothie.

Louis nods, “Fish Smoothie it is.”

James wafts it, “Smells like the beach, right Niall?”

Niall, on the other hand, looks like he’s seasick. “Just like the beach.”

Louis sits up nice and tall, licks his lips and reads, “Niall. Slow hands. Who is it really about?”

The audience “ooh’s” and Harry watches in fascination as Niall’s face turns from green to red.

His face disappears altogether a moment later, hiding behind his hands, and that’s when Louis decides to pressure him. “C’mon. What’ll it be?”

For the first time since the game began, James looks affected and Harry relishes in it. The fact that James doesn’t want to drink that smoothie is written all over his face. His confidence from moments prior clearly having been a ruse. James confirms this by adding some pressure to Niall of his own. “Niall, just say who it’s about. It’s easy. It’s just a name, right?”

Niall removes his hands from his face, eyes wide, “I can’t.”

“You can,” James counters. “It’s just one name.”

Niall gives James a look that clearly spells out the irony of the situation, and James nods in understanding. “Right, okay. A nice cool, refreshing Fish Smoothie then?”

Niall reaches for his and gags as he brings it to his lips. He pinches his nose and takes a gulp. Harry can’t watch and turns his head into Louis’ shoulder. He squints his eyes and hears Niall release the contents from his mouth into the bucket. From the sounds of it, James follows suit.

Louis gives Harry’s shoulder a pat with a laugh, “It’s safe now.”

Harry lifts his head and barely has time to feel embarrassed about burrowing into Louis, because it’s suddenly his turn. Niall finishes gargling water and spins the wheel with purpose. James comments, “I like a man who knows what he wants.”

Harry laughs as the Chicken Feet platter stops in front of him. “Normally, I’d say the same, however, I’m currently not sure I agree.”

The Chicken Feet do not smell like the kind of chicken Harry usually eats, and he’s seriously hoping to be able to wriggle out of this question. He realises then, the most nerve-wracking part of the game is the anticipation of the question. Also, he really, really needs better friends.

Niall smirks and Harry hears Louis curse under his breath.

“Harry, name a script sent to you that you read and immediately thought, “No.”

Harry snorts. “That’s a good one, that.” He points his finger to no one in particular. He’s sure he can answer this one though, but doesn’t want everyone to know just yet. It is for television after all. He checks in on Louis and finds he’s biting his thumbnail and so he gives Louis’ thigh a gentle pat. “I have definitely gotten a few scripts where I was a bit unsure of them-”

James interjects, “Unsure doesn’t count!”

“I’m getting there James.” Both the table and the audience laugh. “But there’s one script that stands out. It was- the prequel to Fifty Shades of Grey.”

The audience gasps and Harry can feel his face burn at the admission. His manager is probably somewhere watching and face palming, but that’s his own damn fault for even thinking that script was something Harry would be interested in. “It’s true. It was sent to me and,” he pauses and swallows, “I couldn’t agree with the romanticising of Grey’s character as an ideal partner. So I said no.” He tops it off with a seemingly casual shrug, though he feels anything but.

Louis offers a high five and Harry is more than relieved to return it. “Well done,” Louis congratulates. He wraps an arm around Harry’s shoulder and gives him a squeeze. Harry knows his dimple is popping out and that he’s blushing but he doesn’t care.

Louis leans in and whispers, “Think we should give James the old Bull Penis?”

Harry nods while Niall shakes his head and argues, “No, I don’t think we should do that.”

“Bull Penis it is!” Louis laughs.

Harry picks up the card and skims it. He cackles and tells James and Niall, “Get ready to eat some dick.” He doesn’t even care that will get bleeped out later. It was worth it.

“James.”

“Harold.”

“Rank Niall, Louis and myself from your favorite to least favorite.”

At this the entire room bursts into raucous laughter. Niall finds it funny until he realises if James doesn’t answer he has to eat a penis.

James shakes his head, “Who wrote these questions?”

Niall places a hand on James’ shoulder and all but pleads, “Just answer. No one’s feelings will get hurt.” He whips his head to face Harry and Louis, “Will they boys? Right? No hard feelings.”

Louis clutches at his heart, “Speak for yourself, mate.”

Harry catches on, pouting and preparing to wipe a pretend tear, “I’ll be absolutely gutted.”

Niall curses, “You two fuckers,” and then brings his attention back to James, “Don’t listen to them. I personally never liked either of ‘em anyway.”

James shakes his head again. “I’ve known Louis for years. And Harry is like an uncle to my son, and you, you’re my favorite Irishman, I-I can’t do it.”

Harry covers his mouth as he bears witness to James and Niall each taking a bite of the Bull’s Penis. Louis cheers them on, “Get in!”

Next it’s James turn to ask Louis, and he chooses the martini glass full of Bird Saliva.

Louis raises a brow, “Bird Saliva? How do they even get that?”

But James ignores the comment in favor of cutting right to the chase. “Louis, your last sent text, what does it say?”

The audience gives a hearty “oooh,” and Louis laughs as he fishes out his phone from his pocket, “I genuinely don’t know. Let me have a look.”

Harry watches Louis check his phone and he must feel Harry’s gaze, because after a moment he looks up at Harry, mouth twisting. Harry thinks he sees a small tinge of pink blooming on the apples of Louis’ cheeks.

“What do you think bird saliva tastes like?” Louis muses with a laugh, sliding his eyes back to the martini glasses warily.

Harry shrugs, then chuckles, “I have no idea. Probably not delicious.”

Louis laughs as well, “Ugh I really don’t want to have to find out. But,” he covers his face with his hands and laughs, “I also really don’t think I can answer. It’s embarrassing.”

James cuts in, “Oh just spill, Tommo.”

“Yeah, just spill Tommo,” Niall echoes, a smirk spreading across his face.

Louis peeks through his fingers and eyes Niall. “I hate you.”

Harry glances between the two and it’s clear when he looks at James, he too, is missing out on something. Harry is suddenly feeling very curious about what Louis’ last sent text is.

Niall laughs, realization apparently dawning on him, and he smacks the table once, “Oh I was hoping this would be the one.”

Louis drops his hands from his face so he can full on glare at Niall, but it’s rendered ineffective because it’s clear he’s also holding back laughter.

Louis takes a breath and flicks his gaze from Niall, to the martini glass, then to James, over to Harry, and then back at the martini glass. He begins to wrap his fingers around the stem, but then quickly releases it.

“Ugh,” Louis groans, “okay.” He lifts his hands in a sign of defeat, “I’ll spill.” He picks up his phone and takes a deep breath.

Harry bites at his finger.

Niall rubs his hands together, evidently all too eager for whatever Louis is about to read.

Louis’ eyes are locked on his screen, as he shakes his head and reads, “If you ever tell Harry I had that dream about him I will disown you, Horan.”

It takes a moment for it to sink in. There’s so much noise in the studio, Harry’s almost certain he’s misheard. But then he sees that Louis is looking at him, biting his lip and fixing his fringe, and right. Harry should say something.

“You had a dream about me?” Is what he manages. Ugh he’s the worst.

James echoes his thoughts, “The Louis Tomlinson basically admits he had a saucy dream about you and that’s all you’ve got?”

Niall pipes in, “He’s usually fed lines James, give the poor man a break.”

The two high five.

Louis exasperates, “Nowhere in there did I mention it was saucy.”

“It was implied, right Niall?” James asks his teammate.

Niall goes to answer, but then appears to reconsider.  
Harry really wishes he wasn’t hooked up to a microphone, or in front of cameras, or with all these people around. He has a lot of questions and he wants them answered. Preferably over a candle lit dinner. With wine.

“Right then,” Louis says while he picks up his next card, voice shaky, and interrupting his thoughts. And no, that won’t do.

Harry turns his entire body in his chair to face Louis, his knees bumping Louis’ leg under the table, and trying to come up with something to say. Louis spins the table placing the Bird Saliva in front of the other team.

“Niall, you’re friends with both myself and Harry. Who’s the better friend?”

It’s pretty obvious no one cares about this question. Harry included- who’s still reeling from Louis’ admission. Niall and James clink the martini glasses, take hesitant sips and manage to swallow the bird saliva. Niall quickly gulps down some water and grabs the last card. When he sees what’s written he chokes. Harry thinks he has an idea of where this is going.

Niall instructs James to choose the final dish.

“Scorpion?” Louis squawks.

Niall smirks at Harry and reads aloud, “On the Breakfast Show you said you tried to help Louis break a record with his music video, but you never gave a number. Exactly how many times did you watch it?”

Harry looks at Louis with a big dopey smile and laughs, “Honestly not enough.”

“Not an answer,” James reminds him.

Louis laughs and adjusts his fringe.

Harry’s laughing as well when he says, “Thirty seven times.”

James starts speaking, doing the outro for the segment, but all Harry can focus on is the way Louis is looking at him. The way he’s playfully pressing his knee against Harry’s. When the floor manager calls for the break to clear away the table and all of it’s contents Louis nudges him again.

“Thirty seven?”

Harry’s about to attempt to defend himself when Louis continues. “That’s all?”

Harry cackles, “Like I said, still not enough.”

He and Louis are instructed to stand and head back to the couch, where Niall is already sat and waiting. Harry covers his mic on the lapel of his jacket and leans in to speak quietly so only Louis can hear, “I’m going to need to hear about this dream, though. Spare me no detail. Maybe over dinner some time?”

Louis laughs, but nods. “It’s a date.”

In that moment Harry’s relieved he’s not hooked up to a heart monitor. Because from the way his pulse has rocketed from just those three words, it would be even more embarrassing than the first time. 

But at least now it would be with good reason.

Because he has a date. With Louis Tomlinson. The Louis Tomlinson.

He supposes in a small, strange way, Nick and the BBC are in part to thank for it. But like hell is he going to admit that out loud.


	4. The Interlude Before The Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trying to set up a date with Louis Tomlinson is not easy, as Harry quickly finds out.

It’s not Louis’ fault. It’s not Harry’s either. It’s just bad timing. Cruel and truly inconvenient timing.  Louis did ask for Harry’s number though after the taping of The Late Late Show months ago, to which he more than happily handed over. Probably much too eagerly, but Harry now has a direct line to Louis, so any and all embarrassment is minute in comparison to the utter joy of receiving a text from Louis. Or a snapshot of his day.

This morning after Harry rolls over in his London bed to stop his alarm from continuing with it’s incessant beeping, he fumbles around for his phone on his nightstand. Once he feels the familiar thin rectangular shape of it he grabs it and blearily checks his notifications.  A few emails, one from his manager with an apparently updated itinerary, another from a new fresh designer he’s been working with, some texts from his mum and sister, and a photo from Louis. This has Harry sitting up his his bed, quickly unlocking his phone.

Louis sent a selfie, and Harry bites his lip while he admires it. It’s a picture of him standing over a sink, brushing his teeth with a sparkly purple toothbrush. His eyes are comically wide, and just so perfectly blue. There’s foamy toothpaste on his bottom lip. He’s clearly not tamed his hair yet. It’s fluffy and soft and standing every which way. He’s topless and the light from the hotel window behind him makes his skin appear almost ethereal. It’s just a picture of him brushing his teeth, but, no one’s ever looked this good doing it, Harry’s sure. God Louis is so pretty.

Harry allows himself a few more moments to stare at the picture on his screen. He most certainly doesn’t smile to himself, and absolutely does not trace his pointer finger down the screen gently. That would be utterly absurd. 

He brings up his own camera on his phone and upon seeing his reflection mirrored back at him, runs his fingers through the unruly curls atop his head and snaps a picture. He reviews it deciding it’s not his best work. But it’ll do. He notes his hair is getting long again and might need a trim. Maybe. He’ll talk to his stylist about it when he sees her in an hour. He sends the picture with a zip of excitement rippling through him, and forces himself to get out of bed. He’s got a plane to catch this afternoon. 

When his plane lands, he’s quickly whisked away to NBC so he can get ready for the taping of The Tonight Show. After that he’s then to pop down to Late Night with Seth Meyers. He stays at his favorite hotel for the night, and appears on The Today Show the following morning. It’s fun. It’s exhausting. It’s also all very routine. And he’s flying out to the west coast tomorrow for more.

Louis is already on the west coast. He’s finishing up the U.S. leg of his tour out there. Not that Harry's been watching the live streams, or following along the hashtag #LT1OnTour whenever he can or anything. Not that he knows Louis has a show in Vegas while Harry's going to be in LA. Or that he's thought about just showing up as a surprise. When he voiced this to Gemma a week ago, she told him it could either read as adorable or creepy. He's pretty sure it would be adorable. Gemma doesn't know Louis like he does, but on the other hand he also is afraid to risk it.

Somehow in between Louis' shows, and Harry's press tour, they have managed to continue their streams of texts, phone calls, and on a couple of occasions- they have even been able to face time. But all Harry can seem to think about is how he wants Louis to say the things he texts in person. Or not have a screen between them, or thousands of miles. He wants to sit across from Louis and have him talk about his day. 

His phone vibrates. It's a text from Louis,

_“Asked room service to bring me full boxes of Fruity Pebbles, CoCo Pops, and Lucky Charms. They asked me how many bowls I needed. I told them- only one.”_

Harry’s in bed drafting a reply, when a notification pops up. He has a new email from his manager, it’s another updated itinerary. He skims through and sees his print interview that was scheduled for tomorrow evening after his business meeting in Los Angeles has been postponed till the following afternoon. Meaning, he has a free evening.

A smile blossoms and stretches across his face. “I have a free evening!” 

He quickly pulls up his conversation with Louis, hoping perhaps this could be their big break.

Moments after he sends Louis the text, his phone vibrates with Louis’ reply. 

_ “I’m free too! Come find me in Vegas.”  _

  
Harry clutches his phone to his chest. He cannot wait. Then smiles as he sends his own response “ _You can bet on it._ ”


End file.
